


His Lips Were Dry

by midnight_bird



Category: Hornblower (TV)
Genre: Angst, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 09:26:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1382392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnight_bird/pseuds/midnight_bird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a little thing, a very little thing, but it chafed at him relentlessly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Lips Were Dry

Archie clenched his hands behind his back and watched snow drift into the grooves between the deck planking. His lips were dry. They were dry and cracked all over, and there was nothing he could do to soothe them. Worse than his lips, though, was the small patch just below the right corner of his lips, where his skin was raw and throbbing. It was a little thing, a very little thing, but it chafed at him relentlessly. It had not been so raw since they had pulled him out of the —

“Look out, Archie!” Horatio’s shout wrenched him back to the present and Archie flung himself aside, just as a wayward block swung in a vicious arc where he had stood.

Almost at once, Horatio was at his elbow, helping him up. “Are you alright?” He asked, then roared, nearly in the same breath, “Get that damned block secured, Morris!”

“Yes,” Archie replied. “Quite well, thank you.” He tried to smile persuasively.

Horatio’s eyes shifted to his lips, then back to his eyes. “Remind me,” he said. “I have something for you, later.”

Before Archie could reply, he was off in a flurry of snow.

 

It was three days before “later” came. The snow grew into a storm of great intensity, howling with all the fury the north wind could muster. They were wet and awake for hours on end and slept only in rare fits of utter exhaustion. By the time the weather finally died down, and Archie and Horatio found themselves both alone in the wardroom together, they could barely speak for weariness. Horatio’s brows were drawn down tight, as though he were still above-decks, staring into the whirl of sleet. Archie began to reach for him, to try with gentle touch to smooth away the tension, but he halted abruptly. His hands were wet. They must be icy cold. Indeed, they were only now beginning to tingle with the pain of their new-found warmth. He stretched and rubbed them, welcoming the pain even as he cursed it inwardly.

Horatio shook his head and ice particles flew from his dark hair. “There are times, Archie,” he admitted, “when I think I’ve grown too old for this.”

Archie smiled, despite himself. “Don’t let Pellew hear that. He has a few years on you. Besides, I remember when you used to long for seniority.”

“Careful what you wish for?”

Archie touched a finger to the raw patch at his lips. “Only if you wish for ill.”

Horatio started. “Oh, I forgot entirely!” He cried, and turned aside to rummage in his sea chest. “Forgive me, Archie,” he said, returning. “I meant to give you this days ago.” In his hand was a small metal container with a sliding lid.

“What is it?” Archie asked.

“Just wait,” Horatio replied. “First, we must get you out of those wet things.”

 

With his sodden uniform lying out to dry, Archie reclined at the table in his smallclothes and a spare jacket. His hair, loose from its queue, was slowly drying, though it was still damp against the back of his neck. Horatio was stroking the skin there with a single warm finger. Archie tilted his head back into the palm of Horatio’s hand and reached up to pull Horatio’s head down to a kiss. It should have felt good. It _did_ feel good, but for the damned roughness of Archie’s lips and skin. He pulled away, eyes abruptly, ridiculously pricking with tears.

“Shh.” Horatio was not letting him go. He was lifting his chin, pressing kisses to the corners of his eyes and the bridge of his nose. Archie’s lids fell closed and he forced himself to concentrate on the softness of Horatio’s lips instead of his own raw skin.

And then there was something warm and soothing gliding over his lips. It felt like honey, smooth and thick, though not so sticky. A tentative touch with his tongue revealed that it tasted a bit like honey, but there was more to the substance, a flavour he could not quite place.

“Horatio?” He whispered.

“It’s alright,” Horatio replied, smoothing the stuff over Archie’s sore. “I got it from a good man - Maturin - the best doctor in the fleet.”

Archie’s eyes opened. “What is it?”

“A balm, or a salve. Maturin made it himself.”

Archie took the little tin from the table and turned it about in the candlelight. The salve looked simple enough, but already it was easing his pain. “You must thank the doctor for me.”

Horatio smiled. “I did.”

Archie brushed a hand along Horatio’s brows. They were not so tight, now, as they had been. He ran his other hand down Horatio’s uniform. It was his old undress uniform, worn and mended neatly more than once. Archie himself had sewn several of the buttons back on. He counted down. One, two, three. There, that hole was his handiwork. He undid the button. Horatio sighed softly. Archie undid the rest slowly, taking his time on each one.

 

After, they lay together, limbs tangled in Horatio’s cot. It was not ideal, but it was warm, and Archie could not bring himself to get up. Horatio’s hands, tangled in Archie’s finally dry curls, were gentle on his scalp and his breath was soft against his ear. Archie slid his tongue tentatively along his balm-soothed lips. The roughness was gone. Archie closed his eyes and drifted peacefully.

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed. Civil feedback is appreciated. // Not mine. Please don’t sue.


End file.
